


What A Scene

by amiavegetable



Series: Walk on the Wild Side [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, New York City, but not really, jeonghan sells ice cream and waffles, seungcheol is whipped, this isnt actually about food stalls in nyc lol i got a bit carried away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-08 09:21:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7752058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amiavegetable/pseuds/amiavegetable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeonghan will never understand how waffle booths survive when the purchase of one waffle costs  more than buying three packets of rice chips at the closest DR, but he won't complain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [title](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f-DKyanpAYs)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so how about some kind of messy incoherent homage to the city that never sleeps ,
> 
> edit: i've added a few links to pictures and articles to provide some visualization of all the places mentioned in the fic in the end notes! for everyone who isn't familiar with new york sorry if nothing made sense lol i hope this clears up some things

_i: sprinkles (august)_

"Whipped cream?"

The boy looks up from where he stands, both of his hands buried in the messenger bag that's simultaneously threatening to slide off his shoulder and spill over with papers. His white shirt wrinkles where he has pushed the sleeves up to his elbows.

"Oh. Yeah, yes please."

"Seven dollars seventy-five."

His eyes crinkle when he smiles. His hair is disheveled, and not in the nice effortless way but a tiny bit like he makes bad life choices.

"Thanks. Have a good day."

A tilt of the head. Another smile. And so it starts.

 

Jeonghan will never understand how the business strategy of waffle booths works- with half the city sprinkled with them, and there are only so many tourists who are willing to splurge eight dollars on a Belgian waffle of average size. He personally wouldn't even have tried to push through if he had been standing at the very beginning of food stalls in New York City, considering the idea as a new concept, but apparently it works just fine.

He's talking as if he isn't one of the people dieting on food stall products, one of the broke college students, part of the big-eyed youth swarming the city in search of the future every year. The concept of a meal that will fill him up for approximately a third of what he'd pay anywhere else is tempting, caving in a necessity sometimes in a city like this. And there is only so much McDonald's you can eat before you feel like you'll get sick at the mere mention of french fries.

It's not always pleasant, no, it sure isn't. One time he found something what he's still pretty sure was a toenail in his chicken wrap. It's taught him to avoid Central Park food stalls, which is a pity because there is barely anything else he can afford between Broadway and Park Ave. He's a Jersey kid, and sometimes he's scared.

Jeonghan will never understand how waffle booths survive when the purchase of one waffle costs more than buying three packets of rice chips at the closest DR but he won't complain, since working at one is better than surviving only on the monthly salary his mom transfers to him. It's better than nothing, even if he has to walk all the way from the outer skirts of the East Village to Midtown on most of his shift days because the subway is expensive.

He knows he's lucky. Bryant Park gets swarmed by people day and night who sit on the tiny island of green in the shadow of the skyscrapers growing into the sky in this part of town, and especially the HBO festival in summer means good business.

"It's because of your hair", Sarah jokes sometimes, when they expand their offer to ice cream and Jeonghan spends hours and hours scooping vanilla and strawberry for little children ogling at him (or the ice cream, it's hard to tell), his finger tips blue and pink and yellow from the sprinkles at the end of the day. Jeonghan shrugs instead of a reply.

"It's you", Sarah insists, wiping her bangs out of her eyes with her elbow. She has a knife in her hands but a loose smile on her lips and she smells like strawberries, the real ones, not the ice cream because she spends all day cutting them up into quarters. She does all the background work, refilling plastic cutlery and counting napkins and mixing toppings and cutting fruit. "You're the reason our sales rocket in summer, I swear."

Jeonghan smiles down at his hands wiping the counter, silently disagreeing. The city is baking, there are a lot of people at the square- of course the children would want ice cream. It has little to do with Jeonghan, even though he knows his boss gave them both a once-over before assigning him to be the salesperson. Sarah didn't take it personally. _I'm better at cutting fruit than talking to people anyway_ , she'd said and Jeonghan had instantly liked her.

He knows they're the cliché, two Asian kids working at a food stall in a city like New York, trying to pay their way through life in Manhattan beyond college tuition fees. Even though they're doing waffles, and their stall is about a square meter wider than the ones on cartwheels, and they have an actual roof instead of a few cheap advertisement-printed screens. It gets incredibly stuffy on warm days and the never ending buzz of the city gets to Jeonghan's head but he knows he's lucky, he is.

 

"I'm Seungcheol."

"What?"

A blush creeps up the boy's neck while Jeonghan is still busy tasting the familiarity of his name.

"I- nothing. Do you have maple syrup?"

He drips some of it on the counter, barely missing the front of his (again) white shirt, definitely misses Jeonghan wincing. He says thank you and Jeonghan almost says it back.

 

Between the fountain and the fancy restaurants they aren't the only booth at Bryant Park. There is one on the opposite side of the lawn, closer to Grand Central Station. It looks like it's run by the same company, judging from the similar exterior design. Sometimes Jeonghan remembers its existence in a fleeting thought but he never bothers to dwell on it. He's never seen or met any of his co-workers except for Sarah and the dude who sometimes covers for her and they all stay on their side of the square. It's not intentional that he never crosses the lawn: he's adapted to walking up Broadway from his dorm in the East Village, taking a sharp right at one point to get to Bryant Park. If he gets the subway, which doesn't happen often, he gets off at 42nd Street, ignoring the east side of the square.

Seungcheol, as he learns, gets off at Grand Central. He emerges from the crowds at the other side of the park, looking like he's deep in thought, and walks past the other booth without wasting a look at the menu boards advertising the exact same offerings as written in Sarah's neat handwriting on the black chalkboards next to Jeonghan's head. When Sarah first notices she laughs and then kindly pretends not to notice Jeonghan's burning cheeks.

 

"Jeonghan. I- my name is Jeonghan."

Seungcheol looks up from his hands smoothing out a crumpled bill. (Jeonghan does too.) Awe is a good look on him: dark eyes widened, lips parted just the slightest bit. And then his face breaks out into a smile and it feels like the sugary colors sticking to Jeonghan's fingertips, blue and pink and sweet.

 

_ii: night and day (september)_

Sometimes Jeonghan visits his family. He does it the inglorious way of a commuter not owning a car: takes the subway up to 175th, walks two streets to the ratty substitute bus stop (there's construction at the actual one, has been since Jeonghan moved to Manhattan or longer). Hands the bus driver two crumpled dollar bills and squeezes onto a seat, rests his head against the window. Hugs his backpack to his chest and watches the city take a step back like some kind of reverse shot of the first time he saw the prominent skyline up close and so real it took his breath for a heartbeat or two.

He gets off the bus in Englewood Cliffs and inhales deeply, pretends he isn't turning his back to the river on purpose. His eyes flit over the familiar letters on the window of the Korean manicure shop, the neon signs above the Korean hairdresser's door and the road signs advertising the H-mart a few streets away, and it's a sight of home. He gives his mom a call and she picks him up with the car and they go home and he hugs his brother and sleeps in his old room upstairs and eats actual, home-cooked food and takes a hit down at the cliffs with Mingyu, for the sake of old times. He should probably feel bad for spoiling a high school kid, but Mingyu is a senior so he figures it's okay.

He returns to the city with his sight a little sharper, his head a little clearer.

 

Jeonghan runs into Jisoo one Tuesday morning. There had been a time where the two of them had had calculus together and they'd become something like acquaintances, their almost-friendship dissipating with the start of the second semester and the change of classes. Sometimes they run into each other, but it doesn't happen too often. It's strange, how little you get to see of your closest neighbors even though they live just across the hall until they get to watch you knock your door against your knees at full speed and drop your keys in surprise. Talk about being smooth.

"Thanks", Jeonghan says, watching Jisoo crouch down and retrieve his keys from the floor, "sorry-"

Jisoo gives him half a nod. "You okay?"

Jeonghan rubs his temple. "Yeah."

Jisoo cracks a sympathetic smile. "Rough night, huh."

"Tell me about it", Jeonghan says, absentmindedly stuffing his keys into his pocket. "My room mate lucked out, slept over at his girlfriend's last night."

"Good for him", Jisoo says good-naturedly, starting to walk down the hall. Jeonghan follows. "What an ass", he tacks on, after some thinking.

Jeonghan snorts. "Yeah, right?"

"I gotta hurry", Jisoo says when they reach the stairwell, the tilt of his head apologetic this time. "See you around."

He gives a jerky wave and then bounces down the stairs, hands clutching tightly onto the strap of his bag. Jeonghan nods to himself in some sort of response. They're all trying to get by, he thinks as passes the pair of dusty pot plant giants standing at the exit of the building, some on more, some on less. He personally prefers to look at his neighbor's douchey Cali Love snapback and the guitar case strapped across his back rather than the frayed cuffs of his sweater and the too-sharp edges of his elbows and knees and face.

 

"You look tired", Seoungcheol states. It's not a question.

"Toppings?", Jeonghan asks instead of a reply.

"Strawberries", Seungcheol says, and Jeonghan pretends he didn't already know he would say that. He reaches for the plastic container with the chopped up fruit, secretly glad to have an excuse to turn his back to Seungcheol. Sarah had texted him in the middle of class that she had switched her shift and the dude that usually doubles for her, some jittery kid with bleached hair called Soonyoung, hadn't shown up. Jeonghan is so, so tired, but it's hard to admit that Seungcheol is right.

(He doesn't know when they reached this level of- something, whatever it is. Seungcheol asking how he is with a tone a notch too sincere to pass as a pleasantry. Seoungcheol lingering by the stall a bit longer than it takes to count three quarters into his palm. By now even Sarah remembers his name. And apparently Jeonghan can't quite resist his attention if the fact that he hasn't charged the extra whipped cream since Seoungcheol's second visit is anything to go by.)

"Fire alarm in residence hall", he says, placing the strawberry-whipped-cream-waffle-napkin packet in Seungcheol's outstretched hand. "Seven dollars."

Seungcheol doesn't mention it, doesn't say _you charged me less_ and Jeonghan hopes he doesn't think it was an accident.

It's the last warm days of the year, the sun hanging just a bit lower in the sky than it used to at this time of the day. Maybe Jeonghan misses selling ice cream.

 

_interlude: upper east side kids go hanging (still september)_

Below the red banners of The Met the museum's stairs are crowded with people. Most of them are tourists taking pictures, of The Met's polished facade, of other people, of themselves. It's certainly not a calm place but it didn't take Jeonghan long to find that there is an unexpected privacy in the busiest places. It's the reason why _he_ likes to come here, Hansol likes it out of convenience. His fancy ass private high school for Rich Upper East Side Kids is just two blocks away.

("I'm not rich _per se-_ "

Hansol falls silent, fiddling with the laces of the horrible boat shoes the students at his school are requested to wear. Jeonghan snorts.

"Then what-", he gestures to the rest of Hansol's outfit, from the khaki pants to his navy blue sweater embroidered with the school's logo and motto in golden letters, "-would you call all this?"

"Listen, I live in an apartment with two rooms. It's probably smaller than your dorm."

Jeonghan ducks his head down to escape an enthusiastic tourist's camera frame and swats the back of Hansol's neck in one movement. "You live in an apartment with two rooms on the _Upper East Side_. There's a difference."

But it's just teasing, mostly, until one of them changes the subject to the weather.)

Sometimes Hansol brings a friend or two, soft-faced boys with wit on their tongues, kids with bright eyes like him. Seeing them makes Jeonghan oddly nostalgic, as if he ever was one of them. One time he brought a sophomore (a _high school_ sophomore) called Chan and Jeonghan nearly fainted at the sudden hit of early-come quarter life crisis. Embracing exactly that he'd bought the whole bunch chicken wraps at the food stalls (neglecting to mention his own horrifying toe-nail experience) and watched them munching and chattering away like the senior citizen he felt like.

"Hyung?"

Jeonghan looks up from inspecting his torn nail beds. There is a reluctant question in Hansol's eyes, his expression less readable than usual. Fun and games always only last so long.

"How are things?"

Jeonghan leans back. "Good. Everything's... fine, yeah."

The tension in Hansol's shoulders ceases a bit. He grins. "How's Mingyu?"

Jeonghan grins back. "High, mostly."

Hansol tips his head back, his eyes following the movements of the clouds beneath the city poking its silhouette into the blue sky. "Damn."

Jeonghan pats his back, something tender swirling warm in his chest. "Don't rush things, kid. You've got more than enough time."

 

_iii: tides (october)_

"Will you go out with me?"

It's not like Jeonghan hasn't seen it coming. He pretends that his first instinct isn't saying yes immediately and wipes his hands on his apron. Props his elbows on the counter and leans closer Seungcheol's face.

"I don't even know your name."

Seungcheol raises his eyebrows. He's almost crossed-eyed, but still manages to look somewhat offended.

"Your full name", Jeonghan relents with a small smile.

Seungcheol takes a step back, swipes his bangs out of his eyes. A look of sincerity settles on his face, catching Jeonghan off guard. "Right. My name is Seungcheol Choi. I'm twenty-one. I don't know your last name either, or what ice cream flavour you like the most, but I'd like to. I'd like to get to know you, outside of work, when we're- on the same side of a counter."

Jeonghan blinks, leans back into the sphere of recyclwd and warmed up air of the booth, heavy with sugar and grease. For once in his life he's glad that Sarah couldn't make it because _holy_ hell, she would never let him live this down. His gaze flits across Seungcheol's face, his dark eyes, his unruly hair. Pretending not to be fazed by clumsy confessions suddenly seems a lot harder than a few seconds ago.

Seungcheol scrunches up his nose. Jeonghan's stomach lurches. "So, um. What do you say?"

"Yoon", Jeonghan manages despite himself. " Jeonghan Yoon. Are you- are you a student?"

"Yeah. Columbia."

Jeonghan forgets about his act for a second. "Wait, what?"

"Why, what did you think?"

Jeonghan shakes his head, incredulous. "You're at Columbia? Then why the shit are you at Bryant Park twice a week?"

Seungcheol looks embarrassed, something looking suspiciously like a blush creeping up his neck. Which is endearing, very much so. "The public library?"

Jeonghan sets his fidgeting hands down, a smile tugging at his lips. He feels like an idiot, giddy and...idiotic. Seungcheol bites his lip. "Is that a yes?"

Jeonghan takes a napkin and scribbles down a few numbers. "Text me", he says, pushing the napkin across the counter. "I'd like to get to know you, too."

 

It screams of loneliness like nothing else but in a city like this people are more inclined to understand. At least he hopes so. Jeonghan calls Seungcheol on Wednesday.

"Could you come downtown right now?"

Seungcheol only hesitates for one inhale, exhale. Doesn't bring up the time, that it's past eleven at night and Jeonghan loves him a bit for it. "Sure. Where to?"

"Times square."

A pause. There's a smile somewhere in his words, Jeonghan is sure. "Really?"

"...Yeah."

"Okay. Give me thirty."

 

"I thought you NYU people only hung out in the East Village and downtown."

Jeonghan hooks one of his feet behind a metal chair leg. The world of lights from outside is subdued here, but still catching in Seungcheol's eyes and smile. "Doesn't mean we're exclusive, though."

Seungcheol grins. "Okay, fair. But why Times Square of all places?"

"Why not?"

"It's... touristy. Loud."

"As if you'd find a truly quiet place anywhere in the city."

Jeonghan pulls Seungcheol's plastic cup by the straw toward himself, takes a sip, feels the tingling sweet taste of cherry coke spread in his mouth. Seungcheol gives him a look, then reaches across the table for Jeonghan's untouched fries. Jeonghan smiles around the sweetness on his tongue and pushes the paper box to the center of the table. There is almost a certain classiness to fast food at this hour of the day, everything punch-drunk and swimming under the blinking lights of Times Square.

"It's just, a thing", Jeonghan explains, tries to. "Like- the busiest places are always the most intimate, I feel like. I like being in crowds, it's nice. Peaceful."

Seungcheol slowly drags a french fry through a puddle of ketchup on the brown paper between them. His eyebrows are furrowed and Jeonghan is momentarily caught off guard by the little crease between them, and how oddly cute he's finding it. "I never saw it that way. Always thought the anonymity of it all is somehow unsettling. Sad, maybe even. But it's- an interesting thought."

Jeonghan smiles. "It's like a real big game of hide and seek. And you never stop. Cool, isn't it?"

Seungcheol studies his face. "You're so morbid."

Jeonghan picks up the cup again, feels the ice cubes clink against each other between his fingers and his palm. "It's part of my charm", he says, the red straw between his teeth.

"Yeah", says Seungcheol, his eyes trained on Jeonghan's mouth. "I like it."

 

Somehow they settle into a routine. Schedules are tight at this time of the academic year, so finding gaps to meet up isn't easy. Jeonghan and Sarah quit the waffle booth to make space for the new pair of broke college students working the winter shift: Soonyoung, who got upgraded from being the substitute, and some other gloomy-looking kid. He seems like he gets cold easily so Jeonghan doesn't leave without recommending his favorite affordable coffee shop not too far away.

(He tells Seungcheol on the same day, _so you don't have to blow all your money on waffles just to see me_.

Seungcheol reacts a tiny bit differently than he's expected: he squirms, then speaks intently to an invisible spot on Jeonghan's shirt. "Money isn't a problem", he says, sending Jeonghan a careful look. "I'm not at Columbia because of a scholarship, you know."

It takes Jeonghan a few seconds to process that new piece of information, but he doesn't dwell on it. He prods Seungcheol's palm with his fingers instead, a quiet way of telling him that it's okay. It's only when he's on his own that he wonders what it's like to not have to worry about money, that he allows himself to be the tiniest bit envious.)

Their routine is somewhat lopsided, full of time holes within itself, but when Jeonghan texts Seungcheol replies, even if it's hours later because pre-med students are crazy busy.

 **jeonghan:** _sent at 5.32pm_

so where did you live before morningside heights

 **seungcheol:** _sent at 10.02pm_

long island

the far end lol

you?

 **jeonghan:** _sent at 10.03pm_

nj

 **seungcheol:** _sent at 10.03pm_

oh wow. close to the city?

 **jeonghan:** _sent at 10.05pm_

ish. i used to live further away, but my family moved to englewood a few years back.

 **seungcheol:** _sent at 10.06pm_

did you used to go to the city often?

 **jeonghan:** _sent at 10.06pm_

no, not really.

 **seungcheol:** _sent at 10.07pm_

what made you move here then?

 **jeonghan:** _sent at 10.11pm_

big dreams i guess

_The air that never stops moving, the heady buzz of life. The way the light catches in the skyline at dusk, like even the sun does not want to say goodbye._

The sky outside of his window is orange and milky, rain chasing water in wet streaks on the glass. Jeonghan taps on Seungcheol's name above the gray text bubbles. He's set his picture to a snapshot of him with a fry half to his mouth, neon lights reflecting in his eyes and smile kept in place. He picks up after the second ring.

Jeonghan is talking before he knows what he's saying, the words stumbling out of his mouth like confused little tin soldiers. "When we first moved closer to the city we went to see the statue of liberty for my brother's birthday. You know how in reality it's really not that big? Looking at it I thought maybe I could, well, make it. I thought- I thought maybe I'm good enough to make it here."

Seungcheol's breathing is steady in Jeonghan's ears, warm. "You are."

Outside, the rain keeps rushing down and soaking concrete and stone until Jeonghan falls asleep to the low humming of Seungcheol's voice.

 

There is a somewhat higher possibility of getting murdered in Central Park past sundown, but for clear nights like this Jeonghan is willing to take the risk. The park is an island of darkness in a sea of lights at night and it's moments like this where he loves the city unconditionally, endlessly.

"Why do we always end up getting shit food at unreasonable times", Seungcheol says, his voice airy and light with mirth, like he feels it too.

"Seungcheol Choi. You eat strawberries with maple syrup."

Seungcheol laughs. "All right. No judging with the food choices."

They'd gotten the very last pieces of greasy food sold down by the ice skating rink, literally seconds before the kiosk closed for the night, Jeonghan casually negotiating them a discount by mentioning his job at the waffle booth. _I didn't know NYC food stalls worked like the mafia_ , Seungcheol had said and Jeonghan had grabbed his hand and dragged him to the set of tall rocks on a flat hill nearby. They'd made it up the broadest rock without smearing themselves with their food, barely, breathless with laughter.

The rock's uneven surface is digging into Jeonghan's back. The sky above him is endless. "It's nice, isn't it?"

Seungcheol huffs, intertwines their fingers between them. "Yeah. But I wanna take you out properly one day, okay? No more fast food."

"If it means my ass is less cold."

"You're a real romantic, I see."

"Just for you", Jeonghan says, and somehow means it.

 

It's inevitable, probably, Jeonghan thinks. Not that he's entirely opposed to the concept, really. It's not the first time either, that he's found himself down at a subway platform, midnight come and long gone, head and body and heart light on alcohol and the everlasting lights. Just that with Seungcheol next to him and Seungcheol's head on his shoulder and Seungcheol's fingers between his everything feels even lighter. Which should worry him, maybe, but Jeonghan is tired of worrying.

"Hey, can I confess something."

Seungcheol lifts his head from his shoulder. "Yeah, sure?"

Jeonghan traces the tip of his boot along invisible lines on the floor. Seungcheol's face is lined with a deep-sitting fatigue, a familiar look that shows on almost every student's complexion once the semester approaches exam phase. But there is something bright in his eyes, something Jeonghan _loves_ , at least in the middle of the night.

"I don't even like ice cream that much. Comes with selling it to children with sticky fingers all summer, I guess."

Seungcheol doesn't react, so Jeonghan rambles on. "Because you asked, remember? When you asked me out, you said you wanted to know my favorite ice cream flavor. Answer is I don't have one. Sorry."

Jeonghan blinks, and blinks again because Seungcheol still isn't saying anything. He's silent until he huffs out a small laugh, rests his forehead against Jeonghan's in a movement accelerated by the alcohol and the late hour. His finger tips are following the line of his cheek and Jeonghan feels his blood thrumming in his veins like he's on fire.

"Can I kiss you?"

It's a whisper, a breath fanning across Jeonghan's lips, and Jeonghan whispers back, "yeah."

And then they're kissing, kissing in a ratty subway station like it's a bench in a park on a sunny afternoon and Seungcheol's fingers are in his hair and his mouth is soft and wet and Jeonghan is drunk and in love, maybe.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((i ended up splitting it into two parts bc it got too messy lol sorry))
> 
> this is about 65% accurate


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seungcheol smiles, and Jeonghan loses the ground beneath his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soon she said; two months later it is. consider me remorseful

_iv: treasure island (november, week one and two)_

**jisoo:** _sent at 2.54pm_

hey

 **jisoo:** _sent at 3.02pm_

this might be weird but

the place i work at is looking for a substitute

and my boss asked if i knew someone with previous experience and i thought of you?

it's not exactly the same as your last job but

text me if ur interested

 **jeonghan:** _sent at 5.16pm_

sure

 

-

 

It had started with a smile. It comes to a halt with another one, and by the beginning of November Jeonghan finds himself in some kind of metaphorical limbo, hovering in an undefined space between one thing and another.

It's not like he _forgets_ \- except it is, between classes and homework and a new, unexpected job offer (Seungcheol visits him at Starbucks and good-naturedly shakes his head at Jeonghan's absurd luck, and Jeonghan hands him his order across the counter with a pointed _temporary_ on his lips) he lets himself forget. The memory of Seungcheol's lips on his that night is too clear to consciously repress, but the certainty he'd felt in that moment is not something he wants to think about.

One time, Seungcheol lingering at one of the tables in the back with his laptop opened and shirt sleeves shoved up to his elbows, looking nothing but focused on his paper work and nursing his coffee until Jeonghan's shift ends, he brings up the dinner date. Jeonghan winces. Seungcheol flips his laptop shut.

"Or", he says, his voice gentle, "I can cook you something at my place. It won't be as fancy, but we can stay in, and my apartment is big enough-"

He trails off and Jeonghan pictures it, the two of them at the dinner table in Seungcheol's apartment, probably with candles and red wine included in the program. The clinking of fine glasses, the candle light reflecting in Seungcheol's eyes. Slow smiles and slow kisses, as if they had all the time in the world. The image sparks a flame low in his guts, a longing warmth he's tried very hard to ignore spreading through his chest.

"Okay", he says before he can stop himself. "I'd like that."

Seungcheol smiles, and Jeonghan loses the ground beneath his feet.

 

Hansol visits him at work, too.

"This is dope", he says, eyeing the huge round logo on the wall above Jeonghan's head. "Do I get a discount?"

Jeonghan smiles to himself. Hansol has a way of talking like a retro-dad that's strangely endearing. "No", he says firmly.

Hansol leans back and crosses his arms. "Does your boyfriend get one?"

"He's not-"

Hansol's eyes widen. "Wait, what?"

Jeonghan bites his lips. _Yeah_ , he thinks, flushing bright red, _what?_

It's pretty simple, really. He's been to Seungcheol's apartment three times, has woken up in his bed and had breakfast with him twice, knows what he looks like in the shower and in the mornings and when he comes. But for some reason his brain is having a hard time catching up.

The problem is that he likes it. He likes it so much he feels like he could get used to wake up next to Seungcheol and smile at him over coffee and shitty breakfast because neither of them is patient enough in the mornings, and it scares him a little. A lot.

Hansol looks at him with childish wonder, waiting for him to explain.

Jeonghan gives him a discount instead.

 

(His roommate sends him a knowing smile the first time he returns to his dorm from Seungcheol's apartment and finds himself _missing_ him, despite waking up with their arms and legs tangled and his even breathing against his cheek merely hours ago. Jeonghan turns on his heel and goes to take a shower to hide his burning cheeks, tuning out the alarm bells going off in his head.)

 

-

 

It happens when Jeonghan finds himself once again in Seungcheol's apartment one cold, foggy morning. It happens when Seungcheol stirs next to him and presses a soft kiss to Jeonghan's neck, his eyelashes fluttering against Jeonghan's skin, and he won't let himself enjoy it. It happens without Jeonghan having much control over it, detonating with its patience stretched thin. Even when the world is still slow and tender in the haze of half-consciousness and warmth, it's hard to miss those fatal three words.

Jeonghan can feel them on his skin, can feel them crawl all over his body and into his heart and it jolts him awake, out of bed like he's been stung. Seungcheol looks startled at best, blinking up at Jeonghan. Then his expression turns from confused to sheepish. "Sorry", he says, voice low. "Sorry. That was- probably too early."

 _Too early_ , the words echo in Jeonghan's head and his eyes zero in on a dark mark on Seungcheol's clavicle. His toes curl into the thick carpet covering half of Seungcheol's bedroom, _too early_.

"Don't", he chokes out and tries to ignore the way irritation flits over Seungcheol's face, before flashing to something like worry. Seungcheol, who is sweet and funny and calm and _rich_ , who apparently only needs something like three and a half months to learn to love Jeonghan, does not understand.

 _Shit_ , he thinks.

"I don't do these kinds of things", he says, even though that's not what he means.

His hands twist at his sides, helpless against the cruelty in his own words. _Sorry_ , he wants to say, but bends down to gather his clothes from the floor instead.

It's guilt, he's pretty sure, that's churning in his stomach when he hurries out of Seungcheol's apartment like he's being chased, not nausea. Although right now, he wouldn't be able to tell a difference.

 

_v: sleet (november, second half)_

"You should do something about that."

Jeonghan starts. "What?"

Jisoo shoots the girl waiting at the counter an off-beat smile and turns to Jeonghan with her order on his lips. The movements of his arms and shoulders are fluid as he angles himself against the counter to grab a plastic cup and write the girl's name on it in lavish letters. Jeonghan looks at his skinny elbows and wonders how he does it.

Jisoo sighs. "That", he says, vaguely gesturing up and down Jeonghan's front.

Jeonghan furrows his brows at the coffee creamer and mechanically fills the girl's order. "What's that supposed to mean", he mumbles to nobody, even though he knows exactly what Jisoo means.

"One large caramel latte", he hears Jisoo chirp and something blunt and ugly forces itself up Jeonghan's throat. It's stinging more sharply than the biting frost that's had the city in its relentless grip since the end of last week once it reaches his eyes and he's tired of it.

Jisoo claps him on his back by the end of his shift, motioning for him to get lost while he cleans up the shop. Jeonghan sends him a grateful smile and steps out into the night. Far out on the water, the lights of a ferry pass Liberty Island.

 

His mom doesn't ask questions when he makes the trip to Englewood the week before Thanksgiving and crumbles the second she gently runs her fingers over his scalp.

"Mom, I panicked", he says into her chest.

His mother sighs. "You're not being very fair right now, Jeonghan."

She doesn't ask questions and he's pretty sure she doesn't understand, but she tucks him into bed that night. Like she used to when he was a child, before he gave his heart first to a city and then to a person, and lost the ground under his feet trying to admit it to himself.

 

"One waffle with strawberries and cream, please."

Jeonghan stuffs his freezing hands in his coat pockets; the words feel strange leaving his mouth. The kid behind the counter nods curtly and turns to prepare the order. It's the one Jeonghan recommended the coffee shop around the corner to when he took up his job back in October, but his face shows no sign of recognition. Jeonghan isn't offended, he's cut his hair since.

He stays at the booth after he gets the waffle, fumbling with the plastic cutlery. Bryant Park is only quiet in spring, when it's still too cold to stay and sit. In winter people crowd on the ice skating rink, sprinkling the square with moving figures and puffy breaths.

"Hey", counter kid calls to him. "Thanks for the coffee shop recommendation."

Jeonghan looks up at the boy's face. He seems indifferent, but at second glance Jeonghan thinks he just seems a little distant, the type that doesn't exactly look lost all the time but still one that warm personalities like Mingyu would want to smother with care.

The boy blinks. He looks soft, Jeonghan decides, his thin gold-framed glasses adding to the 80s nerd aesthetic. "I think I'm in love", he blurts.

The boy raises an eyebrow. "It sucks", Jeonghan elaborates, fiddling with his fork. The boy sniffs and nods as if that made it any clearer. "I'm Wonwoo", he says.

"Jeonghan", Jeonghan mumbles, embarrassed.

Wonwoo shifts. "You should probably tell them how you feel."

Jeonghan tilts his head back. The sky is a mottled gray, streaked with rain. "Yeah", he says.

Wonwoo nods again and Jeonghan goes home.

 

Seungcheol steps back into his life carefully. Jeonghan is still floating, but it's felt less like uncertainty and more like loneliness since he's walked out on Seungcheol's confession, and by now Jeonghan is tired enough to admit that it's a shitty feeling.

So he lets him.

 **seungcheol:** _sent at 8.59 am_

i don't think i got any of what my professor was saying for the past hour

 **seungcheol:** _sent at 9.01 am_

who invented morning lectures

 **jeonghan:** _sent at 11.13 am_

someone cruel probably

 **seungcheol:** _sent at 3.25 pm_

i love winter

 **jeonghan:** _sent at 3.31 pm_

i hate winter

 **seungcheol:** _sent at 3.32 pm_

wh y

 **jeonghan:** _sent at 3.46 pm_

idk theres snow? and it's cold always

 **seungcheol:** _sent at 3.52 pm_

i'll make you change your mind

 **seungcheol:** _sent at 10.43 pm_

hey

 **jeonghan:** _sent at 10.44 pm_

yeah?

 **seungcheol:** _sent at 10.46 pm_

im sorry

 **jeonghan:** _sent at 11.03 pm_

yeah

me too

 

_vi: saint patrick on crutches (december)_

Jeonghan is jolted awake by the sound of a text notification painfully close to his ear. He picks up his phone with bleary eyes and squints at the screen.

 **seungcheol:** _sent at 7.46 pm_

ever been to hell's kitchen?

 **jeonghan:** _sent at 7.46 pm_

what? of course

 **seungcheol:** _sent at 7.48 pm_

no i mean have you ever been to hell's kitchen on st patrick's

 **jeonghan:** _sent at 7.49 pm_

uh no

 **seungcheol:** _sent at 7.50 pm_

yeah don't do it

too many drunk irish people

Somewhere outside an emergency horn starts howling. Jeonghan stares at the ceiling. It's the first of december and it snowed for the first time this year last night and his heart is sore.

"Hey", he says into the receiver.

"Hey", Seungcheol says on the other end.

Jeonghan turns onto his side and tries very hard not to do something stupid, like hang up and isolate himself again. Seungcheol is silent, his breathing even in Jeonghan's ears. He wonders if he's still in bed too.

"So", he croaks after a little while. "What was your point with the drunk Irish people?"

Seungcheol takes a deep breath. "Right. There's this nice little movie theater on 8th Ave. Shows indie stuff mostly, some oldies..."

He clears his throat. Jeonghan closes his eyes, imagines him fidgeting while he waits. He's so relieved he could cry. "Wanna go there?"

Seungcheol huffs out a happy little laugh and Jeonghan's feet gently touch ground.

 

The movie is okay. It's about important life lessons in form of an unexpected friendship and the typical larger-than-life context and it distracts Jeonghan from how much he wants to lean his head on Seungcheol's shoulder, to listen to his pulse. Somehow it's a little hard to believe he's real, as absurd as that sounds.

It's late when the movie finishes. Outside of the theater Seungcheol gently brushes his fingers over Jeonghan's shorter hair."I like it", he says. Jeonghan hugs him.

"I missed you", Jeonghan says over his shoulder. Seungcheol exhales and slowly winds his arms around Jeonghan's waist.

"I missed you too", he says.

And so they stay, breathing and loving and existing in each other's spheres in the middle of the city bustling with life.

 

_vii: .-..---...-._

"I love the city at night."

Jeonghan hums. He does, too- has grown into the undetectable shape of his struggling heart. The skyline blinks its eternal morse code.

"I used to have a night light as a kid", Seungcheol continues, "it was shaped like a moon."

Jeonghan smiles, the image of Seungcheol as a kid sleeping soundly next to a yellow moon lamp popping up in his head. "Do you still use it?"

Seungcheol's hand finds his in the dark, threads their fingers together. Swings their arms between them like to test the waters, says, "No. I don't need it anymore."

Jeonghan laughs and drops a kiss on the side of his face.

"Good."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. sorry this is so rushed i have not been in a good mood to write  
> 2\. i put way too much effort into setting the times for the semi random texts in this  
> 3\. this is not proof read. oh boy

**Author's Note:**

> tourist guide:
> 
> 1\. [DR](http://previews.123rf.com/images/tupungato/tupungato1312/tupungato131200012/24245467-NEW-YORK-JUNE-2-People-visit-Duane-Reade-pharmacy-and-convenience-store-on-June-2-2013-in-New-York-D-Stock-Photo.jpg) \- some kind of supermarket-drugstore-pharmacy hybrid  
> 2\. [Bryant Park](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/a6/New-York_-_Bryant_Park.jpg) \- nice square in Midtown where the most skyscrapers are  
> 3\. [the HBO festival](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LL7cNcqC6U0/T7Eq1z5TdqI/AAAAAAAAARE/WsYueZhJT6g/s1600/one+flew+over+the+cuckoo%2527s+nest+-+062011EL+060+narrow.jpg) \- film festival in summer at Bryant Park; it gets crowded as shit and people like camp there but it's cool  
> 4\. [Grand Central Station](http://cdn.pursuitist.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/Grand-Central-Station-4.jpg) \- beautiful, very very busy big train station (you might recognise the main hall from shows like gossip girl)  
> 5\. [42nd Street Station](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/5f/Times_Sq_42nd_St_station.jpg) \- huge station conjoined underground with Times Square Station (it's very confusing)  
> 6\. [getting from Manhattan to New Jersey without a car](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trans-Manhattan_Expressway) \- technically the bus lines depart from the George Washington Bridge bus terminal but since that's been under construction for like ages you get on the bus at some tiny dirty substitue stop; just crossing the bridge to NJ costs $2 (which is a lot cheaper than the car toll btw)  
> 7\. [Englewood Cliffs](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Englewood_Cliffs,_New_Jersey#/media/File:Census_Bureau_map_of_Englewood_Cliffs,_New_Jersey.png) \- town in New Jersey on the other side of the Hudson River with a big Korean population percentage, the cliffs are weed smoking spot #1  
> 8\. [H-Mart](http://www.maangchi.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/10/H-Mart-Little-Ferry.jpg) \- mostly Korean supermarket where you can get lots of Korean food and ingredients  
> 9\. [The Met](http://www.centralpark.com/updata/Image/activities/met.jpg) \- The Metropolitan Museum of Art, situated on the Upper East Side close to Central Park, super awesome museum 12/10 would recommend visiting  
> 10\. Hansol's fancy ass private high school - i went to the exact school i have in mind here as part of an exchange program but i won't put a link bc privacy and also they'd probably sue me lol  
> 11\. [Times Square](http://www.timbena.com/i/times-square-at-night-images-wallpapers.jpg) \- super trippy at night bc of the literal country-sized waste of electricity, crowded with tourists at all times day and night because of the admittedly really cool lights and atmosphere  
> 12\. [Morningside Heights](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/e/e4/West_116th_Street_-_Morningside.jpg) \- neighborhood in upper Manhattan, home to the campus and residential halls of Columbia University (which Seungcheol attends if you still remember at this point lol)  
> 13\. [Central Park at night](http://fr.weather-forecast.com/system/images/8537/original/New-York.jpg?1342437980) \- indeed kind of dangerous (when you're alone), indeed an island of darkness in a sea of lights... the effect of lying down and being surrounded by the illuminated skyline is amazing  
> 14\. Hell's Kitchen - neighborhood in Midtown Manhattan, a traditionally irish area with lots and lots of irish pubs. i did indeed go there on st. patrick's day and it was super fun but also super hilarious
> 
> i spent three weeks in New York and absolutely fell in love with the city (can you tell lmao), but of course i don't really know what it's like to live there so sorry for any inaccuracies


End file.
